Introduction

Raja Ampat has long stood as a symbol of Indonesia’s eastern promise, renowned for its breathtaking marine biodiversity and vibrant cultural heritage. It is a place of global ecological importance and national pride.

Today, however, it finds itself at a decisive crossroads, caught between the imperatives of nature conservation and the push for resource extraction—essentially a dialectic between preserving tradition and embracing transformation.

At the heart of this tension is Gag Island, where a nickel mining project is taking shape. The project raises difficult questions—not only about environmental stewardship but also about the role that political and religious institutions play in defending the public interest.

Mining, in itself, is not inherently unethical. Indonesia’s economy has long leaned on natural resource extraction, and industrial development is

A particularly controversial figure in this narrative is KH Ahmad Fahrur Rozi, a senior cleric in Nahdlatul Ulama, who also holds a commissioner position at PT Gag Nikel. His public remarks downplaying the project’s environmental risks – and suggesting that local opposition may be tied to separatist interests – have sparked intense public debate.

What makes this moment especially complex is the intersection of religious authority, state power and corporate interest. When religious leaders take on official roles in extractive enterprises, it raises questions that go far beyond personal choices, as it calls into question the evolving role of religion itself in Indonesia’s democratic framework.

This is not to suggest that Nahdla

Entanglement

This is not a sudden development. In 2024, Nahdlatul Ulama accepted a mining concession from the government, which was presented as a form of “affirmative action” for religious organisations. It marked a structural shift in Nahdlatul Ulama’s public role: from a guardian of the moral commons to a stakeholder in extractive capitalism.

These concessions

This issue does not exist in a vacuum. Across the globe, religious institutions are increasingly drawn into public policy debates, especially in areas where development is contested.

In Indonesia, this often takes the form of strategic alliances between the state and major religious organisations to manage policy implementation, promote social cohesion, and retain political legitimacy—particularly in remote regions like Papua and eastern In

The concern here is not simply that Nahdlatul Ulama is politically active, but whether it can participate in these processes without losing its prophetic voice—that moral imperative to speak truth to power.

Nahdlatul Ulama’s role in the Gag Island controversy lays bare both the potential and the peril of institutional proximity to the state.

Figures like KH Ahmad Fahrur Rozi argue that participation allows for ethical oversight, that being “inside the system” offers a chance to ensure corporate actors remain accountable. This is a reasonable argument, especially in a political culture where those excluded from formal power are often sidelined completely.

At the national level, Nahdlatul Ulama has also shown genuine concern for environmental ethics drawn from Islamic teachings. Initiatives like fiqh lingkungan (the Islamic jurisprudence on the environment) have emerged from within its circles, promoting sustainable living, anti-waste norms and the theological duty to protect all creations (khalifah fil-ardh). These efforts provide a moral foundation for deeper engagement with environmental issues.

But contradictions surface when institutional behaviour appears to undercut these values. The presence of Nahdlatul Ulama leaders within corporate entities – especially when decisions seem unexamined or opaque – raises concerns about transparency and integrity.

It is not the involvement itself that alarms many observers but the apparent lack of critical debate or clear ethical boundaries. For those who have long seen Nahdlatul Ulama as a voice of conscience, the silence or defensiveness from within is deeply unsettling.

Prescriptions

To rebuild trust and clarity, Nahdlatul Ulama needs to revisit its own systems of internal accountability. A practical step forward would be to reactivate and empower bahtsul masail—the organisation’s traditional deliberative forums.

These bodies, if used effectively, can foster meaningful dialogue on pressing issues like ecological justice, corporate partnerships and the ethical use of religious authority. Coupled with greater transparency around leadership decisions, this could go a long way in reinforcing Nahdlatul Ulama’s credibility.

Another essential direction is to amplify the voices of Nahdlatul Ulama’s younger and academic branches. Organisations such as Gerakan Pemuda Ansor (GP Ansor) and Lembaga Kajian dan Pengembangan Sumber Daya Manusia (the Institution of the Human Resources Development and Studies – Lakpesdam) have a strong track record in

Strengthening their role in environmental discourse – whether around mining, deforestation or indigenous rights – can help decentralise Nahdlatul Ulama’s moral authority and renew its relevance. Change often begins from within, and Nahdlatul Ulama’s historical strength has been its capacity to adapt while staying anchored in core ethical commitments.

It is also worth considering whether Nahdlatul Ulama can serve as an honest broker between the industry, the state and the people. Rather than becoming a partisan ally to any single interest, Nahdlatul Ulama could reclaim its role as a wasit—a principled mediator that listens carefully and seeks fair, informed resolutions.

This would require creating a distance between its spiritual leaders and the operational roles within extractive industries. Distance does not have to mean disengagement—ethics-based mediation is a form of engagement in its own right.

Realignment

Nahdlatul Ulama is now at a critical juncture. If it continues on a path of selective endorsement or strategic silence, it risks alienating its base and undermining the moral authority it has spent generations building.

The danger here is not only reputational but also foundational. Religious organisations do not draw power from bureaucratic reach—they draw it from trust. When that trust begins to erode, institutional resilience becomes dangerously thin.

That said, there is still time for reflection and course correction. The controversy around Gag Island has already stirred meaningful debate across Nahdlatul Ulama-affiliated communities—from pesantren scholars to civil society actors. These conversations, though not always visible in national media, are pushing for a realignment of Nahdlatul Ulama’s moral compass with justice and sustainability.

If the national leadership is willing to listen, this could become a moment of renewal rather than decline.

Should NU fail to adapt, however, the long-term consequences could be severe. Its moral capital – once seen as a stabilising force in the Indonesian democracy – risks becoming a transactional asset, valued more for access and influence than for ethical leadership.

This shift could deepen public cynicism, not only towards Nahdlatul Ulama but also the role of religion in civic life. When spiritual institutions are perceived as merely echoing political or corporate agendas, their prophetic power dissipates.

But if Nahdlatul Ulama can rise to meet this challenge – by reassessing its internal governance, clearly delineating the line between religious service and commercial interest, and empowering the next generation – it could reaffirm its role as a moral cornerstone of the republic. The Gag Island affair, contentious as it is, presents an opportunity: not to retreat, but to realign.

Ultimately, the question is not whether Nahdlatul Ulama has stumbled but whether it has the institutional courage to confront the implications of that stumble.

This moment should not be dismissed as a minor controversy or a communications failure. It is a mirror, reflecting the deeper entanglements between faith, state and capital. If Nahdlatul Ulama looks away – if it treats this as a passing storm rather than a call for self-examination – its decline will not be triggered by outside forces but from within.

In this regard, Nahdlatul Ulama must decide: will it continue as a facilitator of state legitimacy, or will it reassert itself as an independent ethical force rooted in the lived experience of its followers? For Nahdlatul Ulama to retain its leadership, the cho

If it chooses the former, it may not collapse overnight but will slowly lose its relevance over time. The faithful will quietly drift elsewhere, towards smaller, more grounded communities that are less entangled in bureaucracy and financial opportunities.

All of this is to say that the

A faith that becomes indistinguishable from the interests of the state may survive as an institution, but it will have forfeited its soul.

Introduction

Though mostly ignored by national media, kiai (religious clerics) have played a central role in opposing the provincial government’s plan to open phosphate mines in Sumenep, Madura, East Java. These kiai have rallied under the banner of Forum Sumenep Hijau (Green Sumenep Forum) since 2021 to galvanise strength and numbers in order to put a halt to this plan.

While such activism is overtly rooted in the concern over environmental degradation and sustainability, it is also emblematic of a deep-seated adherence to Madura’s tradition. Furthermore, it is a blatant display of the clerics’ exercise of power, as well as a demonstration of the kiai’s exercise of the Islam kaffah tenet, which signifies a complete embrace of all Islamic teachings.

This article aims to explore these themes while scrutinising the controversial mining activities in Madura.

Community Leaders

We need to begin by understanding kiai’s place and role in Madura’s social and religious hierarchy. Revered religious leaders such as kiai are at the pinnacle of the social order in the countryside, and they serve as a guide to Madurese living their daily lives.

Kiai and their associated pesantren have long served as providers of education, knowledge and information to the surrounding communities. Over time, they gradually became acknowledged as problem

It also means that the people’s concerns are kiai’s—the former are the latter’s charge, and it is the kiai’s duty to look after them. As community leaders, kiai are expected to push for the common good of the people, even if it means opposing plans for development.

Given that the majority of Sumenep’s population is Muslim and associated with Nahdlatul Ulama, the kiai’s position is thus solid, owing to the great support they receive from the people. The close alignment between the paradigms of Nahdlatul Ulama and Sumenep’s local tradition further cements the power structure that binds the people to the kiai, many – if not all – of whom are Nahdliyin.

Opposition

The dispute began with the district government’s amendment to Regional Regulation 12 of the 2013 Regional Spatial Plan (RTRW) that gives excessive benefits to investors aiming to develop local mining businesses, owing to vague and broad wordings that open up multiple interpretations. For instance, the lack of details on areas designated for mining activities could enable phosphate mining companies to conduct their activities unrestrained, thereby threatening the local ecosystem and potentially causing a water crisis.

Since its passing in 2023, the regulation has drawn attention and rejection from the grassroots. Hearings at the local parliament, community advocacy and public discussions were held to ameliorate the situation.

Spearheading the opposition against this plan are the kiai who were moved by the potential environmental fallout and subsequently formed the Green Sumenep Forum. Furthermore, they were also troubled by what appears to be a violation of Madura’s tana sangkol (ancestral land) principle, in which landowners sell their lands at a low price to mining companies.

As community leaders, the kiai found themselves compelled to be more vocal in voicing out the aspirations of the community and also to educate them on this issue.

They shared four observations and calls to action: 1) mining activities in Sumenep’s karst rock landscape areas must be prohibited; 2) the community lacks the necessary resources to repair the subsequent environmental damage caused by mining activities; 3) the Sumenep population must obligate their children and grandchildren to preserve the environment in the present and future, and; 4) the Sumenep population is encouraged to hold istighatsah (mass prayer) and lailatul ijtima’ (night gathering) as a way to consolidate communal endeavour against destructive activities and disasters.

The kiai’s opposition is based on the intertwined factors of the government and mining com

In conveying these four points, the kiai employed the narrative of amar ma’ruf nahi munkar (promoting good and forbidding evil) that is weaved together with the tana sangkol (ancestral land) principle. This is a tactic that found great reverberation among Sumenep’s local population, as indicated by their active participation in protests.

But why Islam? We must connect this with the kiai’s embrace of the Islam kaffah tenet, which sees Islam as a foundation and a reference point for solving various problems in life, including ones caused by capitalistic policies that benefit private companies but harm the people.

This does not mean that the kiai in Sumenep are pushing for the implementation of sharia in local politics—rather, it signifies their involvement in practical politics as well as the application of Islamic teachings in their exercise of power.

Utilising Traditions

As mentioned above, the kiai employed two tools in their opposition campaign: religious (istighatsah and lailatul ijtima’) and local (tana sangkol) traditions. This section explores these two.

Firstly, istighatsah is a form of mass prayer whereby the believers ask God for a resolution to their struggles. It is an expression of the believers’ surrender to God after they have endeavoured as best as they possibly can. In this context, the kiai led the community in a mass prayer to beseech God for a conclusion to their ongoing strife—the reversal of the plan to initiate phosphate mining activities in Sumenep.

Furthermore, lailatul ijtima’ is a religious gathering typically conducted after Isya’ prayer at night, where the kiai can educate the people about the adverse effects of the mining activities. Both activities are typically conducted in mosques or mushallas, with a large number of people in attendance.

Secondly, tana sangkol was the traditional principle referenced multiple times by the kiai in this endeavour. In Madura’s tradition, the lands that the people inherited from their ancestors do not only carry an economic value but also a spiritual one, as these are considered sacred. These inherited lands, therefore, must be treated beyond just their material significance.

Kiai A Dardiri Zubairi – a proponent in the kiai’s campaign against mining activities – has played up the tana sangkol narrative to discourage the people from selling their lands to the companies. To him, the sale of the people’s lands to the companies is considered a betrayal of the trust that the ancestors placed on their descendants and therefore could bring a “curse”. Kiai Dardiri further expounded that in the Madurese tradition, the owner of tana sangkol usually sells it to closest relatives so that ownership remains in the hands of the family.

This episode, therefore, highlights how the Madurese society has adopted the principle of tana sangkol as a form of resistance to capitalist ventures that could ruin their livelihood and way of life. This is a significant development, as it shows that the kiai have capitalised on the cultural identity of local Madurese in mounting a political opposition.

By employing religious and local traditions, the kiai have effectively educated the people about the adverse effects of the mining plan and rallied the community’s support to reject such a plan. This approach has not only strengthened the message conveyed but also connected the ongoing struggle with values that are already embedded in people’s daily lives. Thus, the utilisation of religious and local traditions provided an effective way for the kiai to respond to harmful policies in a way that was more accepted and understood by the community.

The Good Fight

The kiai’s leadership in the anti-mining campaign showcases their enduring relevance and position in Madura’s community.

Resistance to industrialisation and privatisation in Madura, in general, has been the agenda of the Madurese kiai struggle since the start of the construction of the Suramadu Bridge. Madurese kiai see this as a threat to the sustainability of their way of life, so they feel the need to resist all forms of exploitation carried out by capitalists.

But it could be argued that kiai’s political role has somewhat diminished compared to what it was last time, when they used to occupy executive offices in Madura’s regencies. These four regencies – namely Bangkalan, Sampang, Pamekasan and Sumenep – have had kiai serving as regents in the past. This indicates a change in the dynamics of pow

Most recently, Sumenep saw the failed bid of a pair of kiai to return to the regency’s top office. Partai Persatuan Pembangunan (PPP) – the main political platform of the pesan

They carried a vision of change and presented a number of missions that favoured the interests of the people. One of their main missions was consistent with the plight of Sumenep’s kiai, which was developing eco-maritime and preserving the ecology of the mainland as well as the surrounding islands. Evidently, they sought the voters’ support by highlighting issues that affect the population’s welfare and environment.

This political fight also illustrates the desire of Sumenep’s kiai to reclaim power from the control of PDI-P. Though they eventually lost, it demonstrates the kiai’s endeavour to implement the Islam kaffah tenet whereby power is not only a means to gain wealth or position but also to protect the rights of the people.

As Kiai Warits Ilyas, a Sumenep politician, said, “Power must be seized so that we can implement Islam kaffah.” This statement reflects the kiai’s view that politics and power must be used to realise social justice and the welfare of the people, in accordance with religious teachings

Thankfully, there seems to be a wind of change. Pamekasan has recently elected Dr KH Kholilurrahman as its regent. Will a kiai also become Sumenep’s regent in a few years’ time on the platforms of environmental protection and sustainability?

Introduction

Indonesia’s political landscape has solidified following major elections last year. President Prabowo Subianto has continued his predecessor’s political consolidation strategy of sporting a big coalition of parties in the parliament, thus almost effectively neutralising any potential opposition.

This has raised concerns about the weakening of the checks and balances system, the absence of alternative policy debates and accountability.

His ability to accommodate multiple political parties from various backgrounds, including various Islamic ones, influences the makeup of his big and fat cabinet. These Islamic parties have successfully secured ministerial positions despite their opposition of one another in pre-Prabowo years. They prioritise influence

This article attempts to critically examine the dynamics and future trajectory of Islamic political parties.

Decline of Votes

In the 2024 general election, Partai Persatuan Pembangunan (PPP) only secured 3.87% of the votes, which effectively pushed them out of the legislative body for the first time (the parliamentary threshold is at 4%). Prior to this, Partai Bulan Bintang (PBB) was the last Islamic party that lost all their parliamentary seats, which happened in the 2009 election.

However, despite PPP’s decline, the remaining Islamic-based parties experienced a slight increase in votes. Partai Kebangkitan Bangsa (PKB) secured 11,72% of the votes, Partai Keadilan Sejahtera (PKS) gained 9,14% and Partai Amanat Nasional (PAN) earned 8,28%. These three parties now occupy 169 out of the available 580 seats.

The decreasing number of Islamic parties in Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat (DPR) could point to the dimming vibrancy of political Islam in the legislative body. This also proves that the majority of Muslim voters do not vote for Islamic parties, which comprise less than a third of all DPR seats.

For example, members of Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) prefer to vote for Partai Demokrasi Indonesia Perjuangan (PDI-P) and Prabowo’s Gerakan Indonesia Raya (Gerindra) over PPP or PKB, to which NU has historical affiliation and attachment. A reason for this is that nationalist parties like PDI-P has attracted more NU adherents by establishing Islamic wing organisations such as Baitul Muslimin Indonesia (BAMUSI).

Pragmatic Politics

Meanwhile, new Islamic parties such as Gelora Party and Ummat Party emerged, participated and failed in the last election. Like PBB, both parties obtained a very small fraction of votes (less than 1%). This seems to point out that the appetite for new Islamic parties, instead of the more established ones, is still very low.

Based on the past trends, it is almost impossible for new parties, including non-parliamentary ones, to get plenty of votes instantly. This explains why the parties’ elites shifted and adjusted their strategy in order to survive in the current landscape. 

For example, these non-parliamentarian Islamic parties pragmatically chose to foster an alliance with Prabowo’s Koalisi Indonesia Maju (Onward Indonesia Coalition – KIM), instead of improving the cadre and internal systems.

Elites of Gelora and PBB also campaigned for Prabowo, for which they were well rewarded with strategic positions in the cabinet. PBB’s Yus

This is despite their parties failing to pass the parliamentary threshold.

PKB’s pragmatism is also on full display, having joined Prabowo’s KIM that later became KIM Plus, despite previously backing his rival Anies Baswedan. Prabowo later teased the party for “returning to the right path” after their accession to his coalition.

PKB was later awarded two crucial positions. Its chairman Muhaimin Iskandar now serves as Coordinating Minister of People’s Empowerment while its executive Abdul Kadir Karding functions as Minister of Migrant Worker Protection.

Similarly, Prabowo’s loyalist PAN secured nine ministerial positions, whereas PKS, which joined under the KIM Plus arrangement, obtained one.

Securing a cabinet position is significant to these parties for multiple reasons.

Firstly, it accords access to state resources which, through various means, could be utilised to strengthen their base and finance operations such as future political campaigns. By controlling a ministry or a state institution, a political party has the ability to create and distribute jobs as well as projects that keep its internal members occupied.

Secondly, it allows parties to shape policies and control programmes that align with their political agenda. Moreover, a minister’s good performance will reflect positively on their party’s public image and credibility.

Thirdly, securing top ministerial position ensures a degree of political protection from legal scrutiny and law enforcement, although this may depend on that party’s relationship with coalition leaders and Prabowo himself.

All of these suggest that Islamic parties are moving in the same direction, further casting into question the purpose of the party’s Islamic ide

This strategy to “play safe” clearly aims to avoid risks of becoming an opposition. It seems that to these parties, electoral survival and political influence outweigh ideological rigidity. Consequently, however, it also contributes towards the disappearance of diverse voices and views in the political landscape, thus a symptom of Indonesia’s declining democracy.

Status Quo Yes, Opposition No

In February 2025, student protests and demonstrations erupted across big cities in Indonesia. Under the banner of Indonesia Gelap (Indonesia in Darkness), such demonstrations aimed to express public dissatisfaction with Prabowo’s policies, such as the free meal programme, budget cuts and many more. Some students were arrested by local police while others were allowed by local governments to share their opinion.

These protests reflect the public’s growing frustration towards the perceived government’s failure to deliver goods and services. Yet, despite their magnitude, Islamic-based parties remained silent.

In the last decade, PKS had actively positioned itself as the primary opposition. They had challenged government policies and advocated for the needs and aspirations of the conservative Muslims, its vote base.

However, PKS’ recent reluctance to criticise the government shows a shift in the political dynamic, one that marks the erosion of the checks and balances system as alternative voices become restricted.

Likewise, the largest Islamic organisations, NU and Muhammadiyah, might replicate the attitude of these Islamic parties, contributing to a homogenised political discourse in which dissenting views struggle to gain traction. A key figure in Muslimat NU, Khofifah Indar Parawansa, recently stated that NU will continue being a loyal supporter of Prabowo’s administration.

This situation raises concern about why more religious elites are taking part in maintaining the status quo rather than becoming an opposition.

Ideally, an opposition serves the fundamental role in any democratic system by providing scrutiny, offering policy alternatives and acting as a counterbalance to the government. Without it, policies risk being unchecked, leading to lack of accountability and potential overreach.

Conclusion

All in all, the stance of Islamic-based parties today is clear: they are close to the government and reluctant to be an opposition. Consequently, they cannot be relied on to express alternative voices and provide checks and balances against the government. This forces the people to take to the streets to express their dissatisfaction and dislike towards the government’s policies. If this trend continues, Indonesia’s democratic space would continue to shrink under the weight of political conformity, while demonstrations and online protests would become more frequent.

Actors in the current political landscape can be said to adopt the “wait and see” approach to Prabowo’s policies. It remains to be seen how Islamic political parties would react to key government agendas and legislative priorities, especially if these could affect their chan

Introduction

Controversial preacher Rizieq Shihab may become the top opposition figure in Indonesia’s current political dynamics after receiving his full acquittal in June 2024. Rizieq was previously slapped with a prison sentence for violating health quarantine laws during the pandemic and spreading fake news regarding swab test. 

He has maintained a relatively low profile in recent years, during which he refrained from publicly criticizing the Indonesian government and commenting on political situations.

When his followers urged him to speak up about latest political developments at an Aksi 212 (the 212 Action) reunion in 2022, he instead reminded them not to bring up the subject due to his then status as a parolee.

Despite this, there is an indication that Rizieq would switch back to his old orientation. His first statement after acquittal denotes his intention to continue da’wah (preaching) and fight corruptors. Essentially, these were his agendas before his self-imposed exile in Saudi Arabia.

Rizieq’s return to Indonesian politics is potentially significant despite his checkered image, caused by his recent imprisonment, alleged sexting scandal and a bad record in extrajudicial activities during his stint as the leader of Islamic Defenders Front (FPI).

By examining today’s political context and Rizieq’s movement, this piece aims to investigate the possibility of Rizieq’s second bloom as an opposition figure in Indonesian politics.

The Near Absence of Opposition

Rizieq’s return comes against the backdrop of an absence of significant political opposition to President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo’s second term. This is due to several factors.

One, the co-optation of key Islamic entities (such as Ma’ruf Amin and Nahdlatul Ulama – NU) into Jokowi’s camp, which effectively dampens any accusation that Jokowi’s regime is anti-Islam.

Two, the regime has successfully embraced former opposition figures that rode the anti-government Islamist wave in the past, such as Prabowo Subianto and Sandiaga Uno.

Three, the use of Undang-Undang Informasi dan Transaksi Elektronik (Electronic Information and Transaction Act – UU ITE) to silence critics, which has seen hundreds of individuals sent to jail.

Four, most political parties in the House of Representatives (DPR) have been absorbed into a super government coalition.

The lack of an effective opposition, whether Islamist-based or not, opens a wide array of possibility for power abuse by the government. This is reflected in the downward trend of Indonesia’s Corruption Perception Index in the past few years. Some notable cases of embezzlement, power abuse and the culture of impunity could offer a good context as to why some measures of checks and balances are direly needed.

Yet, Rizieq’s second bloom would not be without stumbling blocks. His self-imposed exile and subsequent imprisonment may have diminished a modicum of his influence. Furthermore, the banning of FPI and Hizbut Tahrir Indonesia (HTI) eliminated traditional platforms that Rizieq could utilize to launch his comeback. This measure is part of the wider effort to suppress Islamist-based opposition in the last few years.

The removal of the Islamists from the equation has altered the political constellation and trends which differ greatly from the time before Rizieq’s exile. This can be demonstrated in at least two instances.

Firstly, political figures are now exempt from the “shackle” of Islamist orientation, which allowed them to explore new modes of campaign and messaging. In the 2024 presidential election, candidates optimized the use of TikTok to rollout campaigns that are free from Islam-related messaging.  

Prabowo displayed a soft and approachable side by portraying his “gemoy” (cute daddy) personae. Meanwhile, Anies Baswedan largely ditched his Islamist-based campaign and presented himself as a wise “abah

Secondly, it has allowed figures and entities with more secular leaning to gain traction. Rocky Gerung, Pandji Pragiwakso and the magazine Tempo are at the forefront of this, constantly criticizing the government’s policy and steps through speaking engagements and publication.

These figures have somewhat assumed the political parties’ role

Too Dependent

Similarly, the biggest Islamic mass organizations, Muhammadiyah and NU, cannot be expected to assume the opposition role due to their deep involvement with Jokowi’s government.

For example, Muhammadiyah’s extensive infrastructure in various sectors, such as its vast network of educational institutions, makes it hard for the group to emerge as a critical voice due to its dependence on the government to issue permit.

Even dissenting voice from within Muhammadiyah would be undermined by the group’s leadership. Individuals such as Muhammad Busyro Muqoddas and Anwar Abbas have criticized Jokowi before, only to be responded by General Chairman Haedar Nashir’s public appreciation of Jokowi. One of his reasonings for defending Jokowi was the president’s frequent attendance at Muhammadiyah’s events.

Many of NU elites also rely on Jokowi’s administration for access to projects and power. For example, when the government changed its regulation pertaining to mining concession, NU became the first religious organization that applied for permit. Their argument was that NU needs financial injection to run its various programs and projects.

Would Rizieq Bloom Twice?

Amidst the near absence of opposition emerges a window of opportunity for Rizieq to bloom once more.

Firstly, Rizieq might use the issue of the curious deaths of six FPI members in a December 2020 sh

Rizieq might capitalize on the growing public dissatisfaction at the police instigated by massive cases of abuse in the past two years alone. The Ferdy Sambo scandal, the Kanjuruhan incident and the chaotic handling of the Vina murder case were among the cases that exemplify this. This is a notable opportunity for Rizieq, whose anti-corruption stance is well documented.

How this will affect Prabowo’s administration will be something to look out for. The previously close relationship between Rizieq and Prabowo, particularly in the pre-Covid-19 years, might s

Secondly, the upcoming Pemilihan Gubernur Jakarta (Jakarta Gubernatorial Election – Pilgub) may emerge as a perfect ground for Rizieq to relaunch his political campaign.

A caution should be placed here as the context of the upcoming Pilgub Jakarta differs greatly from the one in 2017, when double-minority candidate Basuki Tjahaja Purnama (Ahok) contested. It might not be as easy for any Islamist faction to identify their entry point this time, owing to the absence of major factors such as Ahok’s blasphemy case and double-minority status.

Hence, Rizieq’s re-entry into Jakarta politics might not be as straightforward as when Ahok was contesting. He would need to identify and exploit platforms that resonate with the people. It would also be dependent on who are running for the position this time, which at the time of writing has not been identified.

Regardless, his massive following in Pilgub Jakarta 2017 was a testament of his power of influence, even if only in the past. His will surely be a factor that candidates need to anticipate and, potentially, court. There is already a sign for this. Former Jakarta Governor Anies, a close ally of Rizieq, was seen attending the

Conclusion

Ultimately, the lack of substantial opposition or government critics is the main factor that would usher Rizieq’s second bloom. Dissatisfaction towards government and the authorities are highly palpable in social media platforms such as X, despite Jokowi’s sky-high approval rating. Ri

This Year’s Ramadhan was Difficult for Malaysians

Selamat Hari Raya Aidil Fitri from Malaysia, stratsea.com.

The past few months have been terrible for Muslims all over the world, as they watched helplessly at the genocide and violence faced by fellow Muslims in Palestine, Syria, and Yemen, for example.

At the time of writing, Iran had just hit back at Israel in defence after its consulate was bombed in Syria, which saw 12 people killed. Israel’s war on Gaza just seems to expand bigger with each passing day.

Meanwhile, in Malaysia, identity politics have intensified. Socks bearing the name of Allah have caught the ire of Muslims, which saw a couple of the supermarket franchise, KK Mart, attacked with Molotov cocktails. Shoes that some people saw seemingly had “Allah” stamped on their soles have been taken off the market, despite calligraphy experts saying that there was hardly any resemblance to the word Allah.

Even an Opposition politician, Bersatu Youth Chief Wan Ahmad Fayhsal Wan Ahmad Kamal said in a post on X that Muslims should not be so paranoid as to think that everything is an act to challenge Islam.

Indeed, this year’s holy month of Ramadhan kept all of us in Malaysia on our toes.

Malaysia has in a month become a paranoid state, with non-Muslims preferring to discuss sensitive issues in private. It is the same for moderate Muslims, except that the conversation is often led by angry nationalists. The question that begs to be asked would be this: are we being overly paranoid or is our anger justified?

The “war” against non-Muslims have long been drawn, but this time around, it has become more volatile.

A Shift in the Region’s Identity Politics

Being Malay in the past decade has become even more urgent for many Malay-Muslims who feel that they truly are at siege. Israel’s war on Gaza, the way Muslims are being

As previously argued, the Malay identity supersedes almost everything else in our country – Malayness is about Malaysia’s politics, religion, governance and business.

In a significant display of cultural assertion amidst the political milieu, members of parliament from

This unprecedented move resonates deeply within the political landscape of Thailand, especially considering the historical emphasis on adherence to Thai identity codes, as introduced by former Prime Minister Phibun Songkhram in 1941.

This step by the seven parliamentarians aligns with their efforts to support the revitalization of Malay identity among the local community in Patani, a cause that has long been championed by grassroots movements.

Kamolsak Liwamo, a Member of Parliament representing the Narathiwat constituency, emphasized that the decision to wear the Baju Melayu during the final days of Ramadan was aimed at reshaping the government and security forces’ perceptions regarding its association with separatist activities. He is also the Chair of the Parliament’s Committee on Law, Justice, and Human Rights.

“We aim to clarify to the authorities, particularly the military and police, that wearing the Baju Melayu is a common practice within the Malay community and does not entail separatist elements,” asserted Kamolsak.

This trend coincides with efforts towards peaceful dialogue in southern Thailand between separatist factions and the Thai government, which are driven by three key factors. Firstly, the government’s willingness to facilitate the re-emergence of Malay identity. Secondly, the readiness, especially among the youth, to shape the future of Patani in the background of the peace talks. Thirdly, the concerted efforts to strengthen Malay identity, supported by various stakeholders including youth activists, NGOs, religious leaders and local political figures.

However, Dr. Ahmad Omar Chapakia, Deputy Rector of Fatoni University in Thailand, while welcoming this trend, cautioned that it should be approached with care to ensure that the surge in Malay nationalism does not impede ongoing peace processes or exacerbate sensitivities within the country.

“This is a positive development, as Malay identity previously existed under a subtext, but when the government allows an open space to manifest Malay identity, it is a significant step forward for the promotion of Malay identity,” stated Dr. Ahmad.

“However, we must pay attention to this trend because if left unchecked, it may become excessive, and I believe it is the role of politicians to ensure that this trend does not beco

The Gaza Question Lingers

On the other hand, Israel’s war on Gaza has raised temperatures among Malay-Muslims. Historically, Malaysia and its leadership has always been sympathetic to the Palestinian cause. This w

Over the decades, the Malay-Muslim society expressed solidarity through rallies, aid and boycotts that flared up every time Israel conducted a major attack on Palestinians. This time around, this sentiment has sustained for longer due to Israel’s extended military operation in Gaza. Malay-Muslims have dug their heels deeper into the boycotts, affecting both McDonalds and Starbucks’ Malaysia’s revenue so much that it pressured both companies to appeal to Malay-Muslim consumers to stop the boycotts. Malays have also taken to shaming and denigrating other Malay-Muslims or non-Muslims who are not seen to be boycotting.

The intensity of this sentiment did not intensify in a vacuum. Since the fall of the Barisan Nasional government in 2018, Malay anxieties and fears have been incited by right-wing groups. This had led to increasingly tense relationships between Muslim and non-Muslims, based on perceived attacks towards Malay political hegemony and the sanctity of Islam. This is the backdrop that further intensifies Malay-Muslim sentiments during Israel’s war on Gaza this time around, with parallels drawn between the plight of Palestinians and the possible downtrodden future of the Malay society.

Conclusion

We all live in our bubbles, especially so when we live in Southeast Asia, far away from Gaza, Sudan and Congo, where atrocities are a daily fact of life. However, the implications of events in these far-off lands will impact us as Muslims and citizens of the countries in this region. The recent Iranian retaliation has far-reaching effects to our region, including Indonesia. In fact, all of the aforementioned controversies do.

The intensification of the Malay-Muslim community’s sentiments towards global issues affecting the Ummah has forced the government to respond to these sentiments, sometimes in unproductive ways. A recent example: the Malaysian government’s response to the community flare-up towards the KK Mart socks issue has been incredibly lukewarm.

Little has been done to rectify or moderate ties between Malaysian Muslims and non-Muslims, at the perceived cost of losing electoral support among the Malays. This is, in effect, a government held hostage by a growing far-right movement. Too afraid of moving to the middle, lest they be seen as non-committal to the Malay-Muslim cause.

If this is how the government reacts to domestic issues, it raises concern to how they may react to important issues in the region. We must be careful that the above agendas are not co-opted by parties that may misuse the cause.

Introduction

In the context of every national election that takes place in Indonesia, the participation of religious leaders – whether they are es

Their roles in these political processes stem from deep reservoir of religious authority and influence they command within the Indonesian society. The pervasiveness of their influence extends far beyond the confines of mere social barriers. In fact, it is believed to permeate into the spheres of economics and politics, thereby shaping the socio-political landscape of the country.

One of the most compelling evidence lies in the dynamics of national elections, whereby political parties and candidates often seek to form alliances and partnerships with these religious figures. These collaborations are not mere symbolism but practical endeavors aimed at enhancing their vote counts in each region.

The rationale behind these partnerships is the acknowledgment of the significant sway these religious leaders hold over the electorate, especially among the Muslim community, which looks up to them for moral and political guidance.

The Power of Murshids

With such prevalent phenomenon, it is vital to recognize the normative role of Murshids. Their choices and actions are more than personal decisions; they form an initial guide for their numerous followers. Their teachings and pronouncements provide a moral compass that extends to various aspects of life, including the thorny realm of politics. Murshids’ substantial following, nourished by years of spiritual guidance and religious mentorship, translates into real and tangible political clout. In the context of democratic electoral processes, their influence emerges as a potent source of potential votes, making them an attractive asset for political aspirants seeking electoral success.

Moreover, when examining Murshids’ role from a different perspective, their charisma and magnetic appeal become pivotal attributes. In the cutthroat world of political competition, their standing as a leader with a significant following makes him an alluring figure for those pursuing power. His charm, the charisma that emanates from his spiritual and moral authority, becomes an attractive force that draws political actors to seek his favor and support. This is particularly evident in the intense “battle” for political dominance, whereby Murshids’ blessing or endorsement can carry significant weight and influence the choices and behaviors of politicians and voters alike.

It is commonly recognized that the political fatwas issued by these religious leaders, as seen through the eyes of their students and dedicated followers, maintain significant and long-lasting influence. These pronouncements are not just statements of religious doctrine; they have transcended into tools that shape political decisions and guide the behavior of individuals within the complex tapestry of Indonesian politics.

In Indonesia, the political actions of religious leaders – such as the ones we find in various religious orders (tarekat) – constitute a fascinating and intricate facet of the political landscape. These leaders wield considerable influence, particularly through religious orders with the power to mobilize their followers and sway them towards supporting a specific presidential candidate.

An illustrative example of this dynamic is the case of Shaikh Abdul Gaos, affectionately known as Abah Aos, who leads the Tarekat Qadiriyah Naqshabandiyya (TQN) Sirnarasa, one of the largest tarekats in Indonesia.

Abah Aos and His Controversy

Abah Aos’s profile shot to the forefront after a highly controversial statement regarding one of the presidential candidates, Anies Baswedan. In a public address before his devoted followers, Abah Aos declared his official endorsement of Anies Baswedan for the upcoming presidential election.

What makes this declaration particularly intriguing is the spiritual and eschatological dimensions that Abah Aos introduced into the political discourse. He proclaimed that Anies Baswedan is a figure believed to be the Imam Mahdi, a messianic figure in Islamic eschatology, who is destined to stand against Dajjal, a malevolent figure in Islamic apocalyptic narratives. This assertion intertwines religious belief with political support, transcending mere political endorsement and tapping into deep-seated eschatological hopes and beliefs of his followers.

Moreover, Abah Aos took this declaration a step further by claiming that all ulamas unanimously agreed to issue a fatwa declaring it forbidden (haram) for anyone not to support Anies Baswedan in the 2024 Presidential Election. He even said that it is forbidden not to support Anies Baswedan, likened it to supporting Dajjal.

This bold claim elevates the political discourse to an unpre

The claims made by Abah Aos have sparked intense reactions from netizens across the digital realm, generating a vast spectrum of opinions, both negative and positive. This phenomenon is a reflection of the intricate interplay between religion, politics and the digital age, where information spreads rapidly and opinion-sharing is highly accessible.

Sufism, historically seen as detached from politics due to its emphasis on spiritual pursuits over worldly matters, has experienced a nuanced transformation amid modernization. Contrary to earlier assumptions, Sufism continues to attract followers across urban and rural areas, adapting to societal changes and engaging actively in practical politics.

Yet, the direct involvement of Murshids in politics, exemplified by figures like Abah Aos, can lead to theological disputes and criticism from religious circles, risking their spiritual authority and sparking concerns about social divisions.

For instance, Habib Husin Alwi said, “Referring to Anies as the incarnation of Imam Mahdi is a matter that raises suspicions of religious and racial discrimination.”

Another figure who also had an opinion on this controversial statement was Kiai Abdul Wahab Ahmad, who stated that “This is clearly incorrect because in the hadiths, it is already stated that Imam Mahdi is a descendant of the Prophet Muhammad, bearing a name and father’s name identical to that of the Prophet Muhammad. The Baswedan surname is clearly not a lineage from Prophet Muhammad. Such errors are highly significant as they represent common knowledge, and it is quite astonishing for someone claiming a religious leadership role to be unaware of this fact.”

In addition to criticism from religious figures, the controversial statement from Abah Aos has also become an easy target for buzzers to create hoaxes. For example, a a post circulating on Facebook associates Anies Yohanies (Anies) with Imam Mahdi.

Anies Baswedan’s team did not respond to the controversial statement from Abah Aos but only straightened out the hoax spread on Facebook with the response: “The problem related to the statement that Anies is Imam Mahdi is actually not an official statement and has no proven validity. The statement was originally put forward by a figure named Abah Aos which was subsequently exploited by the media, just like what happened to the hoax above. Thus, it can be confirmed that such content falls into the category of misleading content.”

The intertwining of religious authority with political endorsements, especially when tied to spiritual beliefs like the designation of a candidate as the Imam Mahdi, poses challenges. Critiques of such actions highlight potential pitfalls when religious

Abah Aos’ Political Behaviour

Abah Aos is no stranger to eyebrow-raising political behavior. He has strategically supported candidates with strong chances of winning, often favoring incumbents or those displaying potential for victory. In the 2014 Presidential Election, Abah Aos endorsed Prabowo Subianto and Hatta Rajasa but backed Jokowi in 2019 due to personal ties with Ma’ruf Amin and a belief in supporting the incumbent.

His endorsement of Anies Baswedan is not an isolated decision but rooted in guidance from his late mentor, Abah Anom. This pattern of political endorsements, including his support for Anies in the 2017 Jakarta Gubernatorial Election, illustrates the intricate relationship between religious lead

Reinterpreting Abah Aos’ Statement

Abah Aos’s followers have defended his stance, interpreting his words as consistent with Islamic principles and carrying significant philosophical meaning.

Irfan Zidny al-Hasib provides a perspective on Imam Mahdi, stating that the correct interpretation of the term “Imam Mahdi” is “the Leader who receives guidance”. According to this interpretation, anyone who is deemed to receive guidance from Allah can be referred to as Imam Mahdi.

He goes on to explain Abah Aos’ reference to Dajjal, defining Dajjal as “massive deceivers”. He emphasizes that anyone who continuously spreads falsehood can be considered Dajjal. In the context of presidential elections, one might perceive supporters of other candidates as “Dajjal”.  

Of course, such interpretation is not for everyone. The controversy surrounding Abah Aos’s statements reflects the complex interplay between religious beliefs, political endorsements and varying interpretations of Islamic principles. It highlights how different individuals can interpret religious teachings in diverse ways and how these interpretations can influence their political choices and allegiances. The example provided by Irfan Zidny al-Hasib illustrates the interpretive flexibility within Islamic teachings and how these interpretations can be applied to contemporary political contexts.

Conclusion

Religious leaders in Indonesia, such as Abah Aos, wield significant influence and often endorse political candidates. This influence stems from their spiritual authority and the trust of their followers. With his considerable following, Abah Aos may be trying to influence the decision for the undecided voters among his followers.

However, Abah Aos’ open support did not significantly increase Anies Baswedan’s electability for. Indikator noted that the support base of Islamic organizations for Anies Baswedan remains at 13.8% despite Abah Aos’ endorsement.

Furthermore, Abah Aos’ claim that Anies Baswedan is the Imam Mahdi sparked both support and criticism. While some followers defended his interpretation of religious concepts, others, including religious figures, condemned it as unorthodox and divisive. This case highlights the complex interplay between religion, politics and personal beliefs in Indonesian society.

Introduction

Unlike the previous presidential election in 2019, the echo of Islamist populism is almost completely inaudible ahead of the 2024 Presidential Election in Indonesia, which will be held on 14 February 2024.

Five years ago, the Islamist populist movement was drummed up by Gerakan Nasional Pengawal Fatwa Majelis Ulama Indonesia (the National Movement to Safeguard the Indonesian Ulema

The movement’s successes in contributing to the downfall of ex-Jakarta Governor Basuki Cahaya Purnama (Ahok) and paving the way for Anies Baswedan’s election victory in the 2017 Jakarta Gubernatorial Election became their selling point that attracted the Prabowo-Sandi pair to engage them ahead of the presidential election two years later.

Therefore, it is peculiar that in 2024, the movement has largely fallen silent, at least in the public space. Where is it now and does it still play a vital role in the upcoming national vote?

The Power of Islamist Populism

Ahok’s blasphemy case that precipitated his political bane serves as an obvious sign of how religious issues could shape voter’s behavior. Religion, in this context Islam, is useful in driving public demand for populist political and social agendas.

The 2017 Jakarta Gubernatorial Election shows that religion and religious identity can be readily exploited to create divisions within the Indonesian society, drawing a dichotomy between “the pure people” of faith and the “evil” or “corrupt” people who are outside the circle of the faithful.

Anies’ engagement with the populist Muslim groups has also been used by several populist leaders in various countries such as Narendra Modi, Recep Tayyip Erdogan and Imran Khan. They may all be considered “religious populists” insofar as their utilization of religious discourse to not merely construct what constitutes “the people”, but to actively create a more religious society in conjunction with religious authorities and/or religious organizations.

For example, Modi wears saffron to connect with the deeply religious Hindu masses through the sacred color. Erdogan has repeatedly used firebrand rhetoric laced

The momentum for the rise of Islamic populism was hereinafter harnessed by Prabowo, chairman of the Gerindra Party, who previously supported Anies

Scholars have conducted many academic studies related to the populism movement in general. There are at least four specific conditions agreed upon by scholars that most give rise to the emergence of populism in a government.

First, pre-existing religio-racial, regional, or class divisions. Second, the politicization of socio-economic inequalities within the framework of those divisions. Third, the availability of minorities as mobilizing targets for populist campaigns. Fourth, the willingness of established parties to support populists in order to retain political significance.

Aksi 411, Aksi 212, the 2017 Jakarta Gubernatorial Election and the 2019 Presidential Election all provide precedents of the rise of Islamic populism in Indonesia. The successful exploitation of Ahok’s blasphemy case, which first emerged in 2016, reverberated all the way to the 2019 national vote, a testament of how powerful it was, even if it ultimately failed to deliver victory to Prabowo.

The Quiet Today

It has been argued before that religious populists are “populist leaders/pa

However, in the upcoming presidential election, their voice is eerily quiet and they do not feature heavily, if at all, in the campaigns of two presidential candidates that previously engaged them. This is because the momentum of Islamic populism has waned, in addition to the different political strategies pursued by the presidential candidates.

Prabowo now has massive political capital drawn from the sizeable party coalition supporting him and the perceived “indirect support” from Jokowi, after agreeing to put the latter’s son Gibran Rakabuming Raka in his ticket. Islamist populists have also grown wary of Prabowo in the past years, owing to Prabowo’s willingness to be coopted into Jokowi’s cabinet as Minister of Defense.

Anies, on the other hand, still accommodates this element, albeit to a limited extent. This can be seen from the appointment of Yusuf Martak, Chair of the GNPF-MUI, as a member of his national campaign team (tim sukses – success team). Although Partai Keadilan Sejahtera (Prosperous Justice Party – PKS), a champion of Islamic populism, makes up the coalition that backs Anies, their influence is moderated by the inclusion of Partai Kebangkitan Bangsa (National Awakening Party – PKB). With PKB Chairman Muhaimin Iskandar in Anies’ ticket, the camp is set to incorporate more traditionalist-moderate undertone. In one of the interview sessions, Anies openly admitted that Muhaimin’s appointment could garner him support from voter bases which he had yet to control.

It remains to be seen how the inclusion of PKB and PKS under Anies’ banner could work in the long-term. Needless to say, PKB’s base – traditionalist-moderate Muslims – does not necessarily jive with Islamist populist actors, particularly because of the traditionalist vs modernist debate that is deeply rooted in Indonesian society. Populist actors – comprising many urban Muslims – feel that traditionalist groups are perpetrators of heresy. On the other hand, traditionalist groups consider that modernists are newcomers to the religious scene in Indonesia who are disrupting the establishment and status quo that they have enjoyed so far.

Perhaps due to this uncomfortable mixture, the Islamic populism tone in Anies’ camp does not flourish the way that it did last time. It would not work for him if he were to play this card anyway. Firstly, Anies has had trouble to shake off his image as the “Father of Identity Politics”, which may have put a distance between him and voters from other backgrounds. Secondly, drumming up this sentiment would lose him the support from PKB. It would be interesting to see if this arrangement is sustainable in the future, especially if Anies were elected as president.

More interesting is the contest to win Nahdlatul Ulama’s (NU) vote and support, which PKB supposedly represents in the political space, though recent dynamics suggest discord between the two. Incumbent Vice President Ma’ruf Amin managed to galvanize NU’s vote back in 2019, a contributing factor to Prabowo’s loss, whom then was supported by Islamist populists.

Today, NU’s vote might be divided among all three candidates. Anies’ running mate is Muhaimin, PKB’s chairman. Prabowo’s camp recently received a boost from Khofifah Indar Parawansa, a powerful figure in NU’s women wing (Muslimat). In addition, Ganjar Pranowo is paired with Mahfud MD, a popular figure often portrayed as a Nahdlatul Ulama cadre.

Both Muhaimin and Mahfud have evidently vied for the sympathy of NU supporters, often quoting wisdom and statements by NU leaders in official debates. They have also quoted Qur’anic verses, in

From the description above, we can understand why the voice of populist Islam does not resonate in the 2024 Presidential Election. The movement has less bargaining power in Indonesia’s political context today, compared to the roles played by Erdogan’s Justice and Development Party (AKP) in Turkey and the M

Conclusion

In the past, Indonesia had witnessed how Islamist populism featured heavily in political contestations. While it was effective as a political capital in 2017, it fell short of delivering victory to Prabowo in 2018. In 2024, due to various social and political changes, the role of identity politics seems to have declined. There are at least three reasons for this. First, the Islamist populists’ disappointment with Prabowo who joined Jokowi’s cabinet. Second, Anies, a key figure in Islamic populism, coopts PKB as the traditionalist group, which is often at odds with the tenets of

Introduction

Over the past few years, many politicians, activists, preachers, academicians, influencers, “opinion leaders” and cyber troopers in Malaysia have been active in drumming up Muslim insecurity and the narrative of “Islam under threat”. Such a threat arguably comes from non-Muslims, liberal Muslims, the LGBT community, migrant workers and as anything perceived as “un-Islamic”. Sometimes, labels such as penjajah (colonizers), pendatang (outsiders), kafir (infidels) and musuh Islam (enemies of Islam) have been used to describe these threats as well.

Such right-wing activists have used various social media platforms to manufacture perceptions and mobilize sentiments. Even though sometimes the factual basis of their argument is questionable, the narratives of “Islam under threat” and “Malay being sidelined” are widely circulated online and even reported and debated in mainstream media.

Such sentiments partly contributed to the solid electoral gains of Perikatan Nasional (PN) in recent elections, thanks to its positioning as a coalition that can “unify and defend Malay Muslims”. These gains were often attributed to the “green wave”, which is often equated with some kind of Islamization. However, as we understand it, it is more the culmination of a right-wing majoritarian moment composed of Malay nationalist and Islamist forces.

This article argues that efforts to understand the green wave must not overlook the social media dimension.

The Right-Wing Playbook

It is impossible for the researcher to get an “objective” view of why voters vote a certain way, as those are complex decision-making processes. In our observation, however, the green wave needs not just to be about voting patterns, but rather politics as experienced by Malaysian voters through social media.

It was reported that 74% of Malaysians get their news from social media, which is even higher than Indonesia, India and the United States,. Such development occur in parallel with certain urbanization trends, like high smartphone ownership (96.7%); long working and commuting hours (especially for the working class and those in the rider economy) that increases social media immersion; and gated and high-rise living communities that often limits one’s exposure to political content mostly via our screens.

Hence, social media necessarily becomes the primary medium where sequestered Malaysian voters experience politics. That means they also experience the wave of hate propaganda, half-truths and downright misinformation that comes with it. There is no understanding of the green wave without an honest reckoning of these elements.

In many ways, we witness a relatively common right-wing playbook in Malaysia – political entrepreneurs claiming that the elites ignore ordinary people’s voices and that minority groups are threatening the majority’s (heterosexual, working-class Malay Muslims) rights. As in the United States, India and Brazil, these appeals have cross-cutting appeal as they wrap the anti-liberal, anti-minority and anti-establishment discourse as one, with the moral critique appealing more to conservative middle-class religiosity. Meanwhile, the elite-shunning discourse appeals to those who perceive themselves marginalized in their “own country”.

Therefore, it is useful to think of Malaysia’s green wave as more of a kind of majoritarianism: majoritarian groups urging the majority to vote and support the parties that could protect the majority. To make this political “movement” work, efforts to manufacture Malay-Muslim insecurity must first bear fruit. Such is evident in right-wing online activism in recent time.

The Jom Ziarah incident could serve as a case study, in which pro-PN influencers, conservative preachers, right-wing activists and right-wing news portals accuse the interfaith program involving Muslims visiting a church as an event with a “Christianization agenda”. What this incident reveals is a pattern of “viralling” that strings together many right-wing political entrepreneurs, who circulate similar accusations in different formats (be it short videos, posters or text messages) across various platforms – Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, online portals and WhatsApp groups. It is a kind of synergy that involves mainstream PN politicians and ostensibly “non-partisan”, albeit right-wing, social influencers. Within days, the Ministry of Youth and Sports shelved the program. Such an incident is not an isolated case; it has repeatedly happened in recent years. The government’s capitulation not only accords PN with political points, but also creates the kind of in-group/out-group rigid boundaries that are necessary to sustain the undertones of Malay-Muslim majoritarianism – that the threat is coming from the non-believers.

Most commentators focus on PN’s TikTok campaign during GE15 but we argue that such social media activism to manufacture Malay-Muslim insecurity has been ongoi

This article will highlight two groups who often spearhead these campaigns of insecurity. The first is Ikatan Muslimin Malaysia (ISMA) and ISMA-linked social media accounts in mainstreaming right-wing discourses. The second is PN, especially Parti Islam Se-Malaysia’s (PAS) social media campaigns in the recent elections.

ISMA

ISMA, a right-wing Islamist organization known by scholars as non-violent extremists for their extreme xenophobia, is a key purveyor of these insecurity and hate-filled discourses. ISMA activists often employ a strategy of spreading fake information to stir racial and religious sentiments. For example, during the first Pakatan Harapan (PH) administration in 2019, former ISMA President Aminuddin Yahaya claimed that there was a stamp collection with photos of churches – claiming it was a “Christianisation” agenda and an attempt to “bully Islam”. In fact, this stamp collection of various worship places was released in 2016, before PH came into power. Such an incident is not an isolated case; Aminuddin Yahaya has been constantly active on his social media accounts in exposing events and individuals that he thinks pose a threat to Islam in Malaysia.

ISMA also use a variety of proxies so that their more aggressive, exclusivist campaigns can be separated from the group’s other “dakwah” activities. Gerakan Pengundi Sedar (Voter Awareness Movement – GPS) is one of the most active ISMA-linked social media accounts. During GE14, ISMA launched GPS, a campaign that urged Muslims to vote for calon Muslim berwibawa (credible Muslim candidates) who uphold the Malay-Muslim agenda. In the aftermath of GE14, GPS became an active Facebook fan page and later also a TikTok page which constantly posts so-called “un-Islamic” incidents and propagates the perception that “Islam is under threat”. It also calls for “the Malay unity” to fight against “the enemies of Islam”.

For example, amidst the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD) controversy in 2018, a GPS Facebook post pointed out the dangers of ICERD ratification on Malay rights. Various individuals, groups and media outlets linked to ISMA have also actively propagated similar messages online and mobilized Malay-Muslims to join the anti-ICERD rally on 8 December 2018.

ISMA’s deep involvement is unsurprising, as Aminuddin Yahaya was the chairperson of two coalitions of NGOs that were leading the anti-ICERD protest. Whereas political parties such as PAS and the now-in-government United Malays National Organization (UMNO) lent their support to the rally, they were happy to let NGOs like ISMA be the face to make the movement look more “spontaneous” and “organic”.

GPS also constantly urges Muslims not to vote for kafir. One GPS Facebook posts criticized both PH and Barisan Nasional (BN) for fielding a non-Muslim in a Muslim-majority seat during the 2021 Melaka State Election (a criticism the page repeated often). Despite its negative connotations, the page habitually uses the term kafir to refer to non-Muslims.

This group parallels the effort of an ISMA-linked political party, Barisan Jemaah Islamiah Se-Malaysia (BERJASA), which calls for “Vote Muslim First” in its campaigns. During GE15, BERJASA is part of Gerakan Tanah Air (GTA), which upholds the idea of a Malay-Muslim-dominated political coaliti

TV Pertiwi is another ISMA’s media outlet – it has an online portal with social media accounts on various platforms. TV Pertiwi is located in the same premise as ISMA in Bangi, while TV Pertiwi’s chairperson, Norzila Baharin is also the vice chief of ISMA’s women wing. This online portal has been constantly perpetuating perceptions that minority groups such as ethnic Chinese, liberals and LGBTs are taking over the political power in Malaysia. In August this year, its official TikTok account was removed because it repeatedly violated the platform’s community guidelines while its website was rendered inaccessible from certain providers.

Earlier in the year during the 2023 State Elections campaign, at least two TikTok short video clips produced by TV Pertiwi were widely spread across social media platforms by pro-PN activists and influencers.One of them accused the potential seat re-delineation of reducing the power of ethnic Malay and turning Malays into a minority on their land. Another one exposed the perceived drastic increase in the number of Chinese migrants and tourists, which might turn Malaysia “from a Malay land to a Chinese land”. These videos all had thousands of shares.

Such narratives are common among ISMA activists as they have focused on reports of Chinese influx and settlement, using them to warn that Malaysia could be the next Palestine or Xinjiang. In doing so, they effectively masked their Sinophobia using an imported language of settler colonialism that enjoys strong resonance locally due to local support of the Palestinian cause.

Another controversial video that was widely circulated to attack PH’s inability to “defend Islam” is an allegation that more than 200 religious schools are being closed down in Selangor. ISMA-friendly Samudera and PAS-owned Harakahdaily are amongst the online portals sharing such news, later being made into video clips circulated on TikTok by various right-wing activists, such as Izzat Johari.

PAS

In recent elections, PN, especially PAS, had used a network of party activists, influencers and preachers to spread similar messages of “Islam under threat” across various social media platforms, especially on TikTok. To be fair, PAS’ election campaign messages came in different forms and contents to target different audiences. Nevertheless, race and religion are central to their campaign. Whereas – perhaps with the exception of Ustaz Hadi Awang – PAS preachers and influencers do not always deploy fiery rhetoric, there are signs of radical rhetoric where the “enemies of Islam” discourse has intensified in their messaging. Many of these rhetoric also borrowed from ISMA’s talking points, which are usually on the far-right domain whereby non-Muslim Malaysian are often portrayed as colonial collaborators, or that there are conspiracies to “sinicize” and “secularize” Malaysia.

Like above-mentioned ISMA’s anti-kafir stands, some PAS TikTok influencers and pages urged Muslims not to vote for kafir, further popularising a term with exclusivist connotations. In a popular TikTok clip during the GE15 election campaign (with 587.1k views), the winner of Malaysia Ameerah Influencer Award (PAS’ young women wing) Puteri Syahira urged Muslims not to choose kafir as their leaders.

During the 2023 State Election campaign period, a TikTok video by SiswaPN (university student wing of PN) stated that “Apa hukum tidak mengundi? Kita tak undi, jadi menang kafir harbi lebih mudah merosakkan agama kita…” (What’s the downside of not voting? The kafir harbi [non-believers who should be fought] will destroy our religion).

As we observed in a pro-PAS WhatsApp group, there were many videos being circulated to stimulate siege mentality among Malay-Muslims that kafir, pendatang or penjajah would take over the country if the Chinese-majority Democratic Action Party (DAP) continues to be in power.

Pro-PAS preachers play an important role in mainstreaming PAS majoritarian messages. Preachers such as Ustaz Abdullah Khairy, Ustaz Azhar Idrus and Ustazah Asma Harun all have huge followings on social media, with more than 1 million followers on TikTok. They frequently give talks at various religious functions. Many also run various business enterprises, from restaurants to fashions, from pilgrimage tours to religious counselling. Such a combination of religious credentials, business networks and social media followings allows them to exercise influence among the broader Muslim public, especially those who are pious but not necessarily PAS members. Their preaching contents mainly focus on religious messages and moral advice. Nevertheless, occasionally, and especially during the election periods, they are not shy about their political inclinations –

During the GE15 campaign period, a TikTok video entitled “Going to vote? Listen to what they say first!” went viral, with more than 400k likes and 73k shares. Although the original post is no longer available now, the video is still available on TikTok. The video featured speeches of three popular preachers – Ustaz Wadi Anuar, Ustaz Azhar Idrus and Ustaz Khairi Abdullah. In sum, they alleged that “Islam is being bullied” and there are “enemies of Islam”, thus Muslims should vote for the party that can uphold Islam.

To reach out to broader young Malay voters, some pro-PN influencers also use elements of popular cultural and fun contents to mainstream right-wing messages. One of them is DD Chronicle, who has more than 781.3k followers on TikTok. On his TikTok, he makes many parody sketches and cover songs, subtly urging Malay Muslims to vote PN. One of his viral songs, a cover of Siti Nurhaliza’s Nirmala with amended lyrics, received more than 100k likes and 22k shares. The lyrics of the song captures the scaremongering tactics, with the influencer singing “the Malays will end up being squatters (menumpang) in their own land…tuan (owners) only in name”.

In these discourses, one witnesses a negative campaign strategy, whereby calls to vote (see Hadi Awang’s exhortation that voting is mandatory and Muhammad Sanusi’s warning of Malaysia being “colonised”) are paired with existential stakes. These political entrepreneurs constantly evoke apocalyptic scenario for Islam and Muslims if PN loses the election (which did not happen, although proving a negative is almost impossible). The real concern for Malaysian democracy is that such ostensible subscription to electoral norms is part of a dark participation, whereby uncivil activities that ranges from misinformation to hate campaigns and to cyberbullying only erodes long-term trust and functioning of democratic institutions.

Conclusion

Even as the post GE-14 political landscape witnessed the fragme

Islamist Feminism in Indonesia

Islamist feminism has become increasingly visible and popular in Indonesia. It possesses a great potential to shape the country’s political landscape in ways that are yet to be fully understood since they have only gained significant momentum in recent years, especially compared to the conventional, predominantly male Islamist movement.

As Indonesia is gearing up for the presidential election in 2024, examining how Islamist feminism may influence the political dynamics in this country is timely and of utmost importance. 

The emergence of Islamist feminism was first observed in the Middle East and North Africa in the 1940s when women started to assume political roles openly within male-dominated societies. As opposed to Islamic feminism, which concentrates on reviving the feminist discourse within the Islamic paradigm through challenging masculinist hermeneutics, Islamist feminism moves one step ahead by carrying such ideas into the political sphere through activism and advocacy.

Moving beyond the former’s intellectual debates surrounding religious reinterpretations, the latter plays an active role in introducing such discussions to the sociopolitical space as the alternative understanding of the role of women in Islam. In other words, the difference between Islamic and Islamist feminism lies very much in the presence of political activism.

Islamist feminism in Indonesia is not necessarily a new phenomenon as it had started to flourish after the fall of Soeharto’s New Order regime in 1998 through the then-rising Tarbiyah movement.

In contemporary Indonesia, Islamist feminist movements have become even more prevalent and thus deserve further evaluation. Its role and involvement encompass issues concerning women’s rights and freedom of expression while at the same time trying to fit such themes within the Islamic framework. 

Although this may sound attractive to many Muslim women, Islamist feminism has the possibility to cause sectarian tensions among Muslims in Indonesia as its ideology may sound too progressive, if not heretical, for many male-dominated Islamist groups.

In addition, Islamist feminism may also face a repudiation from the traditional female Islamist groups, which conform to the patriarchal interpretation of women’s roles and responsibilities. Nevertheless, the speed of its growth and popularity suggests a promising place for this movement in Indonesian politics.

Islamist feminism has its ideology, goals and strategies that have future implications for Indonesia. Its followers perceive Islamic values inherent in Islamist feminism as a means to embed morality in politics, which are also useful to combat corruption and promote social justice. More importantly, it provides ample political space for Muslim women, who often see themselves as a marginalized political segment, to express their political interests. 

Significance and Potential Impact

Defining Islamist feminism loosely as a movement that advocates for w

Yayasan Fahmina, Rahima and Alimat claim to be independent and non-governmental.  Meanwhile, Nasyiatul Aisyiyah and Fatayat are affiliated with the two biggest Islamic groups in Indonesia, Muhammadiyah and Nadhlatul Ulama (NU), respectively. On the other hand, the Tarbiyah group is a female operational wing of the Islamist political party, Prosperous Justice Party (PKS).

The truth is that those Islamist feminist organizations frequently intermingle as their visions and missions are somewhat aligned. It then makes more sense that their roles and activities are intertwined since they all fight for similar causes. For example, many Islamist feminist organizations are involved in the periodic gatherings held by the non-partisan Kongres Ulama Perempuan Indonesia (Indonesia Women’s Ulema Congress – KUPI) to discuss issues pertaining to gender mainstreaming to Islam. 

It is also crucial to note that NU and Muhammadiyah have announced a neutral political position for the upcoming 2024 presidential election. Regardless of the neutrality, their association with the Islamist feminist movements amplifies the latter’s significance in Indonesian politics, specifically in the forthcoming election.

Such an alliance, while adding to the growing influe

Revisiting the Neutrality Claim

There are two highlighted arguments with regard to the Islamist feminists’ political impact on the 2024 Indonesian presidential election.

Firstly, due to the nature of Islamist feminism, this movement is expected to support the presidential candidate who works towards encouraging the active participation of women in sociopolitical space, strengthening emancipation and enhancing women’s political representation. The first point helps to deliver valuable insight into which candidate is perceived to be the most capable of guaranteeing such pursuits.

Secondly, they will likely vote for the candidate who is favored by their affiliated Islamic organizations. This second one, however, offers us the opportunity to revisit, if not to problematize, the idea of “neutrality” by NU and Muhammadiyah. 

Three candidates are currently expected to run for the Indonesian presidential election next year. Anies Baswedan is primarily supported by the National Democratic Party (Nasdem) and other coalition parties. Ganjar Pranowo hails from the Indonesian Democratic Party for Struggle (PDI-P), which coalition consists of both parliamentarian and non-parliamentarian parties. Lastly, Prabowo Subianto from the Great Indonesian Movement (Gerindra) party boasts the biggest coalition size (at 261 seats) while also receiving support from non-parliamentarian parties.

To obtain a sufficient understanding of the competing political parties within the context of this article, we may have a look at some surveys done between 2017 and 2018 by Lembaga Survei Indonesia (LSI) that reveal several useful findings, amon

According to the survey, Gerindra is the most Islamist and has greater room for political Islam to thrive among the three parties. In terms of the political spectrum, Gerindra’s ideology has placed it on the right wing, widely known to be conservative. Interestingly, the highest number of Muslim followers is found in PDI-P, which happens to be the third most secular party in Indonesia. PDI-P is also the most popular among female followers. For such counterintuitive outcomes, it is still difficult to predict which contesting party will accumulate the most support from the Islamist feminists at this juncture. 

The subsequent layer to examine is the individual candidates themselves, primarily on the image they sell to win the hearts of potential voters. In his book The Media and Modernity: A Social Theory of the Media, John B. Thompson, a Professor of Sociology, provides an extensive discussion of what he believes is the most influential embodiment of political communication, which is personalization of politics. In this process, political p

Notwithstanding the parties’ religious ideologies and political spectrum, Anies, Ganjar and Prabowo have depicted excellent political personalization to the public by constructing certain images on television and social media. Anies’ Instagram account is mainly filled with community engagement, public talks, grassroots participation and snippets of religious personal life. It is comparable with Ganjar’s digital image-building, except he substantiates the interfaith element in his public engagement. Meanwhile, Prabowo’s social media posts are distinguishable from the other two as they mostly portray meetings with the officials and political elites, somehow suggesting more impactful actions, if not an inherent distance from the people.  

In August 2023, Indikator Politik Indonesia released a survey on the electability of the three candidates among Indonesian Muslims. It indicates that Prabowo holds over 50% of the votes, followed by An

His followers may actually buy into the ideology of his party or the fact that it receives a tremendous backup from the two well-known right-wing parties, the Party of Functional Groups (Golkar) and the National Mandate Party (PAN). In this case, the public seems to put more weight on Gerindra than Prabowo. If this is true, it will put the political personalization theory discussed earlier in a compromised position.

Undermining political personalization through fronting political parties leads to revisiting the neutral stance of NU and Muhammadiyah in the presidential election. Since many Islamist feminist communities operate under NU and Muhammadiyah, they naturally support political parties with the strongest connection to these two giant establishments.

In September 2023, LSI disclosed its most recent survey result that PDI-P is the most favored by NU among the three contesting parties, with Nasdem being the last. It is speculated that for this very reason, Anies has become the first among the three candidates to officially announce Muhaimin Iskandar, the chairperson of the National Awakening Party (PKB), an NU-pioneered political entity, as his vice-presidential nominee. 

As for Muhammadiyah, its close affinity with PAN may benefit Prabowo in amassing electoral votes. It is now easier to forecast that the Islamist feminist movements and their followers will support their two most preferred candidates, Ganjar Pranowo and Prabowo Subianto, followed by Anies Baswedan.

The forecast can nonetheless be inaccurate, especially since Anies has secured an NU-based vice president. This dynamic underlines the roles of NU and Muhammadiyah in influencing electoral votes in the Indonesian presidential election. Visualizing them as neutral agencies may obliterate their protracted political involvement and deny their political impact. 

Islamist Feminism in Indonesia’s Future

As a Muslim-majority country with multifarious segments in its society, Indonesia has long relied on the principle of “unity in diversity” to safeguard the wholeness of its nationhood. Even though Islam plays a powerful role in Indonesian politics, it must harmoniously interact with broader religious and social elements in the country. The rise of female Islamist movements is part of global development that should be embraced as a political reality in today’s society.

Islamist feminism will inevitably affect Indonesian politics in many possible ways that must be further examined. The process of its interaction with various political and religious ideologies in Indonesia deserves a comprehensive evaluation as it concerns oneness, harmony and social cohesion in the count

Introduction

The ‘Green Wave’ has been used to describe the significant electoral gains made by Perikatan Nasional (PN, The National Alliance) in Malaysia’s 15^th General Elections in November 2022 and the recent state elections in August 2023. It is an elusive term, not least due to the political motives behind its employment. In this article, we will argue that the Green Wave does not suggest a product of Islamisation per se, but, rather, the culmination of a right-wing majoritarian moment composed of Malay nationalist and Islamist forces.

Differentiating Majoritarianism and Islamisation

At this point, it is worth revisiting some of the differences between right-wing Malay Muslim majoritarianism as a political force and Islamisation as a socio-cultural process. To be sure, both are multifaceted processes intersecting in many ways. Discerning such differences helps avoid the trap of thinking

First, the making of this right-wing Malay Muslim majoritarianism cannot be separated from the broader right-wing turn of the Pan-Malaysian Islamic Party (PAS). Whereas PAS had its radical phase in the 1980s, the current more exclusivist PAS is actually a turn away from its ‘Islam for all’ phase when it was with the Pakatan Rakyat (PR, People’s Alliance) coalition. A number of precipitating events led to such a shift, including the death of the influential figure of Tok Guru Nik Aziz and the exodus of the so-called ‘Erdogan’ faction that formed the party of Amanah.

Second, while signalling growing religious observance, the increasing demand for a halal economy is still a relatively inclusive process. For example, many non-Malays and non-Muslims are key pushers of the halal market. The right-wing majoritarian turn only happened in recent years with campaigns like ‘Buy Muslims First’, which has a latent exclusivist element with its non-Muslim boycotting undertones. What these right-wing actors seek is not just the moral purification of the economy but also Muslim dominance in it. This emphasis on dominance extends to political ca

Third, the Islamisation experienced in Malaysia does not solely follow the Arabisation route that entails significant deculturalisation from local aesthetics and customs. In recent years, self-identified champions of Islam, including PAS, have adorned traditional Malay attire more, and have made the tanjak (the traditional Malay headgear) a symbol of Malay-Muslim identity. Further boosting the popularity of the tanjak is the popular film Mat Kilau, which has a clear exclusivist message in an ethnoreligious garb (see below). Unlike what some more laudatory accounts of syncretic religion say, the integration of religion with local cultures need not always produce moderation. However, the meaning of Malay culture is always in contestation. A recent event called Keretapi Sarong has shown that its celebration can unite people from all walks of life instead of being another vessel for ethnocultural nativism.

Fourth, even as calls for pan-Muslim solidarity were often made, Malaysia’s right-wing majoritarianism has sometimes sidestepped the usual bogeyman of the Chinese-dominated Democratic Action Party (DAP, also a euphemism for anti-Chinese rhetoric), sexual minorities, and the liberals. In several instances, the disdain of PN-linked or PN-supporting right-wing actors was also directed at the Rohingyas and traders of Arab origins. This arguably shows that nativism is more pronounced than Islamism in driving right-wing mobilisation.

Our point is not that decades of conservative Islamisation has not played a role in sustaining such a political economy that makes fostering organic and tolerant multiculturalism a challenging task. But this right-wing turn in Malay nationalist and Islamist sentiments is a product of complicated origins. Factors of class, religiosity, and race are all within this potent mix.

The ‘Pull’ of the Green Wave

Within this context, the term ‘Green Wave’ is helpful for us to understand how Malay-Muslim majoritarianism operates as a socio-political force. The ‘wave’ metaphor is particularly useful because it shows how this political force, sustained by actors within and outside of PN, swept or papered over a fragmented and uneven Malay Muslim constituency. In other words, the wave has both a pulling and pooling effect. It attracts votes but also aggregates them across a spectrum o

The ‘pulling’ stems from the fact that the ‘Islam under threat’ discourse propagated by many right-wing actors has resonance with a variety of majoritarian insecurity sentiments. For those who experience a situation of post-Covid economic precarity, the message signals non-Muslim domination of the economy (using the ‘non-Muslim’ signifier helps sidestep the near-half non-Malaysian equity ownership that is often wrongly attributed to the Malaysian Chinese). Right-wing activists also smartly tapped into the economic insecurity among Malay youth, working class and urban poor communities.

For those more prone to m

It is important to note that while there are material conditions that facilitate these sentiments, these insecurities are not directly reflective of a complicated reality where the Malay empowerment agenda is still ongoing and has enjoyed some success. For example, according to a paper, by 2020, Bumiputeras (the majority of whom are Malays) account for “66% of all employed Malaysians, but 68% of professionals”. A potted landscape where neither celebratory nor conspiratorial version of the Malay empowerment story is entirely accurate means there is a need for political entrepreneurs to manufacture such insecurities (especially on social media), something we will discuss in a separate article.

Green Wave as the ‘Pooling’ of Malay-Muslim Votes

Given the cacophony of interests that can potentially respond to this ‘Islam under threat’ master narrative, the true achievement of the Green Wave lies in its pooling effect: those responding to the messaging (not all have come from PN actors) deciding to vote for PN in swathes instead of choosing UMNO or simply abstaining.

This convergence is bolstered by three factors. First, PN enjoys the advantage of being a well-coordinated electoral alliance between a Malay nationalist (Bersatu) and Islamist party (conversely, UMNO, despite cosying up to PAS before the 14^th General Elections, decided to go for a three-way fight arrangement). Seat allocation, the most contentious issue for any electoral coalition gunning for the same constituency, does not appear to be an issue, despite some quarrels between Bersatu and PAS. In the elections, the coalition was also nimble enough to allow the use of the PAS logo in Kelantan and Terengganu while keeping to the PN logo in other states.

Second, PN’s effective use of culture war issues, which is euphemistically called 3R issues in Malaysia (race, religion, and royalty), has a pooling effect, too. Through advancing anti-liberal, anti-minority (especially gender and sexual minorities), anti-pluralist takes on social issues, culture war issues bridge the Islamist-nationalist divide to create a larger conservative majoritarian bloc that enables the ‘Green Wave’ to happen. The saliency of culture war issues in energising conservative majoritarian mobilisation can be seen from the fact that it not only works in places where religion is still a potent force like India and Turkey, but also in a highly secularised setting such as China.

One example of a culture war issue is the uproar against a Ministry of Youth and Sports-supported programme under the Pakatan Harapan-Barisan Nasional (PH-BN) unity government that allegedly brought Muslims to visit churches, which led to a police investigation and the Ministry ultimately abandoning the programme. PN figures have accused it of being a Christianisation agenda, a wild accusation former Prime Minister Muhyiddin Yassin also reportedly made during the elections. But pushbacks also came from the wider public too, including influencers and populist preachers who ended up legitimising PN’s anti-multicultural stances without directly endorsing the parties.

Another cultural moment is the release of the aforementioned Mat Kilau, which emerged as the highest-grossing film in Malaysian history. Despite its problematic ethnic stereotyping and historical revisionism, the right-wing-produced film gained mass appeal as a silat action epic (a popular genre in its own right). Its jingoistic tones also fulfil an anti-colonial fantasy that began as a bourgeoisie discourse but has since trickled down to everyday political discourses. The film’s depiction of Mat Kilau as simultaneously a Malay nationalist and Islamic heroic figure is vital to this pooling effect. Unsurprisingly, the film was quickly capitalised by politicians who sought to unite the Malay votes on their end. The downside is that, like the film, the Green Wave’s call for Malay-Muslim unity is built on this divisive rhetoric on the need to confront the ‘enemies’ of Islam.

Third, the pooling effect also came from the ‘Sanusi’ effect, referring to the PAS Menteri Besar of Kedah Sanusi Md Nor, who has gained immense popularity as a straight-talking ‘man-of-the-people’ populist, much like former Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte. Sanusi was so popular to the point that Kedah was the only state that had a higher turnout during the recent state elections; a testament to Sanusi’s mobilising capacity.

Whereas his abrasive style does not earn him universal admiration, he does exert a pooling effect, in that, like former US President Donald Trump, he manages to clinch cross-class support from the Malay-Muslim vote base. The confrontation with the elites gave him the populist credentials; but being an Islamist party leader who outlawed gambling shops in his state and demanded Penang’s return to Kedah to reverse a colonial legacy earned him lots of fans amongst the Malay middle-classes too, given a substantial part of this demography yearns for a more ‘Islamic’ government and an abject removal of any traces of (secular) colonialism. Indeed, PN was so convinced of Sanusi’s popularity amongst the Malay ground that they appointed him the national election director (with many calling him panglima perang, war general) for the state elections. He was also featured heavily in early campaigns in the more urbanised Selangor (see this video that was watched 150,000 times), until he became a liability for all

The Future of the ‘Green Wave’?

Understanding its pulling and pooling effects helps us locate the ‘Green Wave’ in a particular historical moment in Malaysia’s changing political scene. The pull factors speak to a situation of high economic, cultural, and political uncertainties; a situation that is not without global parallels. On a sociological level, what helps channel these anxieties in the direction of ethnoreligious majoritarianism is a confluence of multiple factors. Malaysian society is more connected and exposed than ever thanks to social media; more ‘Islamised’ than ever due to decades of Islamisation; and freer than ever to go against the elites and the establishment due to the opening of the democratic space (which also means non-majoritarian opinions can easily be drowned or bullied out of existence in the name of majority rule). The pool factor reflects a potential reconsolidation of the Malay votes fol